


There All The Honour Lies

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: All The World's a Stage [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- Actors, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, New York City, Tony Awards Ceremony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 22:16:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6772459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Tony Awards night in New York City, and Draco is nominated for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role. How will Harry help him celebrate the nomination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There All The Honour Lies

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 24 hours for the LJ Wand in a Knot fest. I was tagged first, and this is the result. It's loosely beta'd by ElizaJane, who was only slightly less exhausted than I was. All errors and foolishness are mine.  
> The prompt was "That's unexpected"
> 
> These ridiculous characters are featured in this 30 day (ongoing) fic, [Act Well Your Part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6742543/chapters/15408463) . Yes, it's a WIP, but it's 30 prompts in 30 days, so it will be finished!

“Nervous?”

Draco jumped, the unexpected voice pulling him from his thoughts in the apartment’s foyer.

Harry laid his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “Let me help.”

Draco executed his best runway model turn, showing Harry his bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, white shirt--French cuffs closed with monogrammed cufflinks, and his lavender paisley silk bow tie hanging loose.

“My hands won’t seem to cooperate.” Draco raised his shaking hands and smiled wanly.

Harry took Draco’s hands into his and kissed each palm. Draco sighed at the contact, which soothed him, “I'm so--I can't believe--”

Harry turned Draco back toward the mirror and reached over his shoulders, taking the silk into his hands. Left over right, under and over, through and pull. Harry pulled to tighten the knot, adjusting until it was perfect. He dropped his chin onto Draco’s shoulder and smiled at their reflections.

Draco smiled back and brushed his hand over Harry’s cheek and sighed. Blessed. Lucky. Whatever anyone called it, he was absolutely the luckiest man in the world to be weak-kneed, foolishly-grinning, in love with Harry Potter

He forever-loved this man, who’d moved with him when Draco had agreed to take the lead role in _The Swing Set_ when it transferred from London to New York City. A member of the ensemble of _Les Miserable,_ Harry had given notice to the director and packed his bags. If London had one less “Man at the Barricade,” that would be fine, he’d told Draco. “But this is the break of a lifetime for you, love. Nothing’s holding us here.”

Harry leaned into Draco’s touch. “You are Draco Lucius Malfoy, and you deserve a Tony Award.” Harry whispered it into Draco’s ear. With his words still lingering between them, Harry breathed as he nosed at Draco’s collar.

Draco swam in the sensation of the soft, warm puffs of breath and the drag of Harry’s nose and chin and lips. The spot where his shoulder and neck meet, when Harry nipped him there, grazed him with the edge of his teeth, Draco was lost. Lost to thought, to reason. There was only yes and now.

“You look magnificent,” Harry said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Gooseflesh raised on Draco’s arms and neck. His cock, which had been soft while Harry worked the tie, perked up, pushing at the zipper placket on his formal trousers. “Want you.”

Draco nodded. He turned to Harry and looped his arms around Harry’s neck, pressing their lips together. He was lost in Harry’s kisses, lost to the sensation of their lips and how they moved together, just as he’d been since the first time Harry’d kissed him.

“Before the awards ceremony or after.” Harry took Draco’s hand in his and kissed each fingertip. “Or both?”

Harry’s voice, deep and rough, sent electric current coursing through Draco’s veins. And, if he were being honest, directly to his cock. When he tries to speak, Draco’s words are thick with need. “God, I want you right now, but, we can't. We’ll be late for the Red Carpet.”

Harry slid his hand behind Draco’s neck and tangled his fingers in the too-long hair the part required. He rested his forehead against Draco’s, and they stood breathing each other’s air, kissing soft and slow as the local news played on the television in the background.

Harry kissed Draco one final time before pulling back. “It's almost 5 and that's the time the Red Carpet stream begins. Merlin only knows how long it will take to get there at rush hour. Are you sure we can't just apparate?”

Draco shook his head. “I'm not kidding. There’re gonna be reporters everywhere. We can't chance it.”

Somehow in the few moments he'd not been touching Harry, his stomach had retied itself into knots. “Has anyone ever sicked up on the Red Carpet?” Draco asked, not sure if he were kidding.

Harry took his hand and led him out to the landing so he could lock the door. As they walked down the three flights to 57th Street, Harry held Draco’s hand. “I'll hold it all night if you like. And if you are ill, I'll just take this Puking Pastille and be ill with you.”

Draco laughed, happy to let Harry take charge and buoyed by the appreciative stares from passers by. “They're not real New Yorkers. Jason told me at my first rehearsal not to look up when I walk or I'd look like a tourist. I told him I am a tourist!”

The Red Carpet was a blur of shouted requests for photos, and microphones shoved in their faces, and camera flashes popping like strobe lighting. Draco held onto Harry like his anchor; Harry never held him back or held him down, but instead grounded him, reminding him of where he belonged.

“Mr. Malfoy! Thank you for speaking with us tonight. We’re streaming live. Who are you wearing?”

Before Draco could get Tom Ford’s first name out, the reporter moved to another question. “What do you think your chances are tonight? I saw the show and loved your performance, as did the critics!”

“I’m honored to be in attendance tonight. This alone has made me quite happy.” Draco smiled at the camera and broke away as soon as he could, looking for Harry who’d moved off the Red Carpet to speak with the playwright.

With a grin still plastered to his face, Draco leaned in to the two men. “How do you do this? My face hurts.”

Harry snickered. “Yeah. It’s killin’ me, mate.” He chortled, but when Draco didn’t laugh, Harry trailed off, ending with an “Oh. Awkward.”

Draco pulled him into a tight hug before moving on to the next reporter. “You still part of the pact to sick up with me?”

Harry extended his fist, his little finger alone sticking up. “Pinky promise.”

Draco’s genuine smile lit up his face. Only Harry would make him pinky promise on the Red Carpet. And Draco curled his finger around Harry’s.

A barrage of questions battered them as they moved toward Radio City Music Hall’s

“Did you base your portrayal on someone you knew?”  
“How did you research this role? Did you hang out in parks?”  
“Who’s this man with you?”  
“Introduce us to your boyfriend! Are you engaged? Will you be marrying soon?”

Draco answered each question as he best he could while continuing to move forward, but the last question stopped him. He opened his mouth and closed it without answering.

Harry stepped forward. “I’m Harry Potter. I’m also an actor, but compared to Draco Malfoy, I just dabble. You may have seen my groundbreaking performance at the National Theater as Guard Number 2 in Hiddleston’s _Coriolanus_?”

Draco rolled his eyes so hard, he was certain everyone on the Internet heard it. The reporter’s eyes darted back and forth; she had no idea how to respond.

“I was also legendary in British theatre for my “Man under the Runaway Cart” in _Les Miserable_.”

Draco had never seen Harry so serious, singularly focused, but he knew from Harry’s nose, from the tiny, lines at the bridge, that he was struggling not to laugh.

“Come along, Potter. No need to bore this poor woman further.” Draco smiled and began to tear Harry away from the microphone, but the reporter continued.

“When are you two getting married?” she asked, grasping for a scoop of juicy gossip.

“Are we getting married?” Draco stopped and asked Harry.

“We could. Or we could just continue to live in sin like the godless artists we are.” Harry rubbed his chin, deep in thought.

“Seems legit.” Draco took Harry’s hand and walked away. He felt Harry’s hand slide from his and looked over his shoulder.

Harry had stopped and stage whispered to the reporter, “I’m not allowed to tell anyone, but you’ve been so kind. September 31, 2016. Ta!” and with a wave, Harry caught up to Draco.

Harry, on the Red Carpet, in his black tuxedo with a lavender shirt Harry chose to complement Draco’s tie, a smile the widest Draco had ever seen.

His heart stuttered, and Draco placed his hand over his chest to be certain it still beat. He loved this man more than he knew possible. This ridiculous, lovely, caring man. He blinked back tears.

Draco pulled Harry to him and kissed him deeply, holding up the flow of people behind them. Sir Ian McKellan complained loudly about _this younger generation, snogging in public--why hadn’t it been like that when he’d been young._ They were hustled off the carpet and into the theater before they could create any more havoc.

“I love you,” Draco said as they sat in their seats, close to the stage.

Harry winked, but held Draco’s hand on his lap.

Once the show began, Draco clenched Harry’s hand as tight as he could without cutting off circulation, releasing it only to clap. The presentation of awards felt like slogging through treacle and flying at lightspeed at the same time.

“The nominees for the Tony Award for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role are--”

As Dame Helen Mirren read the names of the five men, field cameras--stationed near each actor--zoomed in on their reactions to their names. The footage appeared on a video screen behind the presenters.

“--And Draco Malfoy, _The Swing Set_.”

Mark Rylance, a previous winner, held up the gold envelope. “And the Tony Award goes to--”

Draco sat on his hands during the reading of the names, too afraid he’d cover his face with his palms. His stomach rumbled and he knew all of the food he’d eaten that day was fighting its way back up. He leaned over to Harry. “You’ll still love me if I don’t win, right?” He meant it. He needed to know. He knew, but he needed to hear it. “Right? You’ll still love me?”

Harry kissed Draco’s cheek. “Nope. I’m in it for the fame and the sex.”

Draco caught the laughter in Harry’s eyes and grinned.

“Draco Malfoy, _The Swing Set_.”

Draco heard his name and tried to process what he’d heard. Everyone around him applauded, and Draco realized. His hands flew over his mouth.

“Go!” Harry said, kissing Draco’s cheek.

Draco stumbled getting out of his seat, and laughed as he walked up the stage steps. He accepted his Tony Award and looked out into the theater. “A year ago, I auditioned for a small show in London, praying I would get the part because I needed to prove to myself that I could do _this_. This play has brought me the two greatest joys in my life. Being on stage and sharing my life with my partner who is my love and my life.”

Draco blew a kiss to Harry, who stood up for a split second and caught it with a smile. The people who sat around him awww’d.

"Well, that was unexpected," Draco grinned when he finally returned to his seat.

"To you, maybe." Harry smiled and intertwined their fingers. "Not to me."

Afterward, when the interviews were completed, the parties attended, congratulations made all around, Harry and Draco walked home, tipsy and carrying the Tony Award in a McDonald’s take out bag.

“How does it feel to be engaged to a Tony Award winner?” Draco asked when they arrived on the front stoop. He slipped his wand from inside his jacket and disabled the wards on their building’s front door.

Harry grabbed Draco’s wand and held it to his mouth like a microphone. “Well, I’ll tell you. I feel emotionally and spiritually blessed to know Mr. Malfoy. Although the gossip about us being engaged is only speculation. Absolutely no truth to it.”

Harry opened the door and allowed Draco to walk through first, then locked the door and re-cast the wards. They climbed the stairs slowly, exhaustion setting in from the adrenaline crash.

At the third floor landing, outside their apartment door, Draco held up the McDonald’s bag. “I’m Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I won a Tony Award.”  
Harry grinned, “Weren’t you supposed to leave that there so they could engrave it?” He used his wand to open their door, and watched Draco walk in.

Draco knew, as sure as he stood there, that Harry was staring at his arse, the way it filled out his trousers that clung in the right spots. Good. _He’s not too tired for my plans._

“Possibly. But I’m a wizard. I’ll take it back tomorrow.”

Harry laughed as he closed the door to their apartment. When he turned around, Draco stood in his way, crowding him.

“Hey, handsome.” Harry slid his hand up Draco’s arm to his cheek.

Draco trembled as he leaned into Harry’s touch. “This night has been incredible. You kept me off balance all evening so I couldn’t spiral, and each time I got close, you’d do something ridiculous. How did you know I needed that?” How did Harry always know what he needed, when to push, when to pull back. When to say _I love you._

“I just love you.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “After that, everything fell into place.”

“I’m Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I love you more than I have words for.” He bit his lip as he watched Harry’s reaction.

Harry cupped Draco’s face, cradled it in his hands, and looked into Draco’s eyes. He leaned in slowly and brushed his nose against Draco’s. “Damn. And you have a lot of words.”

Harry breathed a laughed and kissed Draco before he could retaliate. He took Draco’s hand and led him to their bedroom. The street lamp filtered through the open blinds, leaving thin slices of light that striped Draco’s shoes.

“You are my priority,” Harry said, closing the blinds halfway for privacy from the pigeons. “I always know what you need. Like for example, I can tell you _need_ to take this jacket off.”

Harry kissed Draco again as he slowly slid his palms up Draco’s chest, glancing over his nipples, which responded quickly to Harry’s touch. But Harry didn’t return to them; instead, he continued to Draco’s shoulder and slipped the jacket off and down Draco’s arms. “Better?”

Draco shook his head. “A little, but not enough. Too many clothes.”

Harry stepped back and observed Draco, who stood with his eyes closed. “Tonight, I think I’ll remove your clothing the Muggle way.”

Draco whimpered, knowing Harry’s hands would caress the curves of his sensitive sides without tickling, scrape lightly over his nipples, drag his lips up Draco’s inner thighs until he reached--Draco moaned and scrabbled at Harry’s jacket, shucking it off him, letting it fall to the floor.

“Not slow, then?” Harry murmured into Draco’s neck as he tugged at the end of the paisley bow tie, and left it hanging around Draco’s neck.

Draco pulled him in closer, removed Harry’s tie, struggled with the buttons of Harry’s shirt until he cursed and used magic to remove it. To remove all of Harry clothes.

Harry moaned, and Draco needed him, wanted him, felt giddy with the love and passion and frenzy that swirled around them. He kissed Harry, in short bursts and slow tender slides of lips and tongues until they were dizzy with the need to breathe.

Harry dropped to his knees and mouthed the bulge in Draco’s trousers. His warm breath tickled in the best way, and Draco bucked his hips, wanting more.

Harry ignored Draco’s thrusts; instead he untied Draco’s shoes and slipped them off. He leaned back, resting on his heels as Draco slid off his trousers and pants and stood in their bedroom, wearing only his unbuttoned shirt with the tie still draped under the collar.

“You are a fucking menace, do you know that?” Harry looked up and growled. He stood up and cupped Draco’s arse in his hands and nipped his shoulder through the shirt. “Looking delicious like that.”

Draco gasped then sighed as Harry drew his arse cheeks apart, just wide enough for Harry’s erection to lie in the crease. Draco pushed back, pressed against Harry, wanted him more.

“Do you taste as delicious as you look?” With wandless magic, Harry’s hand filled with lube. “Face me.” Harry fell to his knees again. This time he swallowed Draco the way he knew Draco liked--fast and all the way, until Harry could barely breathe for the fullness.

Harry’s right hand held the base of Draco’s cock; his left, slick fingers teased Draco’s hole, sliding over it, massaging it in circles, until Draco begged to be fingered.

Draco leaned his head back and allowed himself to feel. To shut down his brain and let his body be in charge. This, with Harry, the two of them together, that was beyond words.

Draco watched Harry’s mouth take all of him in and then hollow his cheeks as he sucked back off, over and over. Harry synched his mouth and fingers, the in out in out in out. Draco held on, held out as long as he could.

He grabbed Harry’s wild curls in his fists and fucked his mouth, thrust once, twice and stilled, coming without warning. Harry moaned around him, sucking through it, swallowing. Draco thrust weakly before pulling out.

Draco looked down at Harry, at the mess he’d made of Harry’s hair. His shy smile, always shy--still, after a year together. Draco intended to whisper words of love to Harry; instead, “I fucking love you. Get up here” spilled out.

Harry didn’t, _oh, couldn’t,_ Draco realized. Harry’s fist was wrapped around his own cock, and with just a few tugs, his back arched and he came over his fist, his noises incoherent, something between a moan and a sob. When Harry was ready, Draco helped him to his feet, found them a cloth, and they tumbled into bed, exhausted but curled into each other.

When Harry rolled over and out of the bed, Draco grudgingly woke. “What are you doing,” Draco asked through a yawn. The next day was matinee Saturday, a double show day. He needed sleep, even if he’d have to get up again in just a few hours.

“Nothing.” Harry placed something on the bureau and climbed back into the bed.

When Draco looked toward Harry; he saw his award now sitting on his dresser. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, but I was right.” Harry grinned wrapping himself around Draco. “You’re Draco Lucius Malfoy and you deserved to win the Tony.”

“Yes. But more importantly. I’m Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I deserve you.”


End file.
